


Knowledge Gaps

by apostapals (apostapal)



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Gender-Neutral Hawke, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 07:38:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7926235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apostapal/pseuds/apostapals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one knows Fenris like Hawke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knowledge Gaps

Varric calls Fenris a ’ _broody porcupine_ ’. He sees rough edges and sharpness in places Hawke does not. He can’t see Fenris like they do. No one can, really.

They don’t know he snorts when he laughs too hard. Or that he can’t flip a pancake to save his life. They’ve never heard the noise he makes—something between a giggle and a gasp—when Hawke kisses his ear. They’ll never get to see his bedhead or feel the painfully soft way he kisses.

Fenris is soft and warm where the world around is cold and sharp. He is a hand on their thigh under the table during card games that no one else sees. He is lips on their neck when they get home.

He’s a heated whisper, fingers knotted in their hair, when Hawke gasps his name.

“ _I am yours._ ”

“You’re so romantic.” they whisper hoarsely in the afterglow, hands still grasping at his back.

Fenris chuckles, lips brushing over their collarbone and chest—adoring, and says, “Just don’t tell the dwarf.”

Varric writes what he knows of them. Teasing, joking, and, yes, loving. But the red favor and playful declarations aren’t the half of things.

Hawke realizes that the dwarf never hears the names Fenris calls them so he never writes them. It strikes them as odd, at first, that not once can they find one in a story about them.

“My darling, my dear.” Fenris says, arms around their waist as they sway through the library—maybe dancing, maybe just playing, “My songbird.”

Hawke kisses his nose and he smiles. “ _My love._ ” he says, and returns the gesture.

He says this one like it is sacred, like it was made for Hawke alone. He loves, yes, and he speaks with love. But the word itself is for Hawke’s ears only.

People ask how Hawke could have waited. _Three years._ Three years before Fenris figured out how to give them his heart. But those people don’t know.

They don’t know what a prize Hawke got for simply being patient.

They don’t know Fenris. Hawke does. And, in the end, that’s all that matters.


End file.
